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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809152">Buckets of Rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/2raggedclaws/pseuds/2raggedclaws'>2raggedclaws</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jack Taylor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 07:22:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/2raggedclaws/pseuds/2raggedclaws</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written in June of 2012 and posted to LJ and perhaps to Tumblr. It was, at the time, the first fic in this fandom. For whatever that's worth.</p><p>Spoilers through the first hour or so of The Guards.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Taylor/Kate Noonan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Buckets of Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written in June of 2012 and posted to LJ and perhaps to Tumblr. It was, at the time, the first fic in this fandom. For whatever that's worth.</p><p>Spoilers through the first hour or so of The Guards.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Buckets of Rain</p><p>I.</p><p>“Bob Dylan. Blood on the Tracks. 1974” she blurts out a bit too quickly.  As if she’s taking a test. As if she’s concerning about passing it.</p><p>She takes a deep breath. Looks down to steady herself, and starts to take off her shoes.  She’s home now, and the adrenaline is almost gone. Her hands aren’t shaking anymore, and the electric surge of it is draining from her muscles.  </p><p>Jack Taylor, of all people.  How on earth did that happen? She can still feel the warmth of his coat, the protective swell of his arm around her, the smell of booze and bars on him as they walked the nearly empty streets back to her flat.</p><p>Jack Taylor.  He was a legend. A legendary fuck up, yeah, but also one hell of a guard in his time.  All the recruits had known of him; had looked up to him or feared him or dismissed him as a stain on the organization, but everyone had known about Jack Taylor.  And then there he’d been, obviously at the tail end of a long night and few bottles, and suddenly pitching insistent gropers into the canal for her.</p><p>Christ. What a idiot she must seem. Some guard. Silly girl can’t even protect herself from a drunk. Some guard. </p><p>When she looks up, he’s got worry written all over his face. </p><p>“You hadn’t been attacked before, had you?”</p><p>He catches the wounded look on her face and his tone softens. </p><p>“All that training for the guards? It doesn’t mean much if you’ve not had to use it.”</p><p>She meets his eye, the adrenalin is suddenly back, her eyes dark with irrational anger. </p><p>“I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless, you know.”</p><p>He smiles. Gets slowly to his feet.</p><p>“I know you’re not. You know what to do, you’re a good guard, but you’ve got to get your body to remember, not your brain. Brain’s no good when some asshole’s got you by the neck. C’mere ... let me show you.”</p><p>She stands and lets him lead her to an open patch of floor, suddenly more aware of him than she’d been since they met.  He’s not a tall man, but taller than her. Solid .. a sportsman’s build that is muscular and compact. His hair is thinning a bit she notices as he bends over to set his cup on the floor, but there’s life and kindness in his eyes as he straightens and looks at her. </p><p>“Now break my arm.”</p><p>For the next long while he drills her in the skills she learned in guard training. How to lock a man’s arm, break his elbow, or control someone much larger with a wrist lock. He makes her keep on, and makes her keep drinking, until she no longer thinks about what to do.  Until her mind is useless to the motions her body instinctively makes as he acts the part of an assailant, her smaller body overpowering his larger, stronger one. The smell of sweat and booze wafts off him and he laughs as she puts her weight behind it, and shoves him face first against the wall.</p><p>“Kate, I think you’re getting the hang of it. Work all your patrols half in the bottle and you’ll be fine, I think.”</p><p>II. </p><p>She knows who he is.  Is impressed by him, that’s written on her face. Warms him, that does, right down through the damp and in a way that's much better than the booze which is still putting a bit of a shine on things. </p><p>Earnest this one. And smart. And absolutely no fear, he realizes as she meets his gaze and asks for an escort home. She deals with it well, the adrenalin and the aftermath of being attacked.  For the most part, anyway.  He keeps it light. Talk of work and the recent drownings which, though gruesome, are couched in a langauge they both understand. It’s a conversation they both know how to navigate, and it keeps things friendly but impersonal. </p><p>Until he forgets for a moment, and flips through her record collection. Her Dylan albums prompt a quote, and all of a sudden they’re not guards, but people. </p><p>He catches her shift in mood as she reaches to remove her shoes. He likes her. He likes her far more than he ought to for so, so many reasons. And he can tell that her ego has been bruised by the attack, and by his rescue of her, grateful as she was at the time. </p><p>Kate will need even footing if they’re going to have anything further to talk about. Kate will need to know he takes her seriously.  </p><p>“All that training for the guards? It doesn’t mean much if you’ve not had to use it.”</p><p>She flinches at that, her back up immediately, her eyes dark and full of challenge. </p><p>“I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless, you know.”</p><p>“I know you’re not." </p><p>Never for a minute would he doubt it. </p><p>“You know what to do, you’re a good guard, but you’ve got to get your body to remember, not your brain. Brain’s no good when some asshole’s got you by the neck. C’mere ... let me show you.”</p><p>And then he sets his drink on the floor and he’s too old for this shit, certainly, and has had too much to drink, probably, and it’s far, far, too late in the evening, but there he is, letting this beautiful girl ... woman, he corrects himself, beat the shit out of him.  He makes her keep drinking.  Makes her keep trying the takedowns and wrist locks and elbow strikes that he knows she never really understood in training, not like she does now, not after tonight.  Makes her keep working until her brain has ceased to function and it’s just her body making his joints ache and his arms bruise.  </p><p>Christ, but she smells good. And she’s soft and hard all at once as she pushes him around the small flat. Smart and determined and quick to laugh as he keeps up a stream of jokes and quips to keep it light. To keep some distance between them as their bodies touch and the level in the bottle goes down.</p><p>III.</p><p>And then it’s over. They stop, together, as if by signal.  She’s breathing hard, but she’s smiling. Her earlier failure lost under a few inches of liquor and their practice drills. She’s good, he hadn’t offered her false praise each time she’d stopped his attacks on her, and she knew that. Trusted it. </p><p>He’s less flushed than she is, but he’s sore.  And he’s in trouble. He’s known that since she got his Dylan reference in less than a heartbeat. </p><p>Her dark eyes find his, and he meets her gaze for a long moment.  Then he smiles, grabs his coat and is gone, backing out the door of her flat and into the hall.  </p><p>“See you around, Guard Noonan. See you around.”</p>
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